To Be An Echani
by twinklet26
Summary: After looking at his pathetic looking stick and his opponents very sharp looking sword, Atton thought of the only two words that could emphasize what he was feeling right now. Oh frack…


**A/N: I decided to post this up here, because in the Fate of the Wandering, I make a few references to it, and Mars and Dane are also in FotW. :) This story is a bit old, and I haven't had a chance to edit it, but I hope you'll like it anyway. So here you go. **

**-twinklet26. :)**

* * *

"Atten…tion!" the officer barked.

Stiffing back into line, Atton rolled his eyes, yet brought his arm up in a strong salute. Although his official name was Jaq Notta Rand, his younger sister from memories ago had liked to look at everything backwards and turned Notta into Atton, the easiest of his three names to say backwards. Atton tried to smile at the memory, but the uniform he wore was most uncomfortable, and he thought longingly of the nearby cantina. Then he remembered what—and who—he was here for and straightened a little.

"Entering…the leaders of this crusade…Revan and Malak!" proclaimed the officer.

Two figures strode down the aisle between the two lines the soldiers had made. The first was a young woman, with raven black hair. A dark blue cloak hugged her form and Atton heard two lightsabers clinking together underneath it. The second was a man about half a foot taller than Revan, wearing a red cape. Malak looked out among the soldiers and Jedi with his piercing amber yellow eyes, and Atton couldn't tell if Malak approved or not. Malak tried (unsuccessfully) to keep pace with Revan.

Revan was walking from soldier to Jedi to Echani to whomever else and was talking to a selected few in a quiet tone. Was she encouraging them? Atton strained to hear. Then it was his turn.

He didn't notice her in front of him until she was. _Don't let your guard down again_, he told himself, and brought his eyes up to meet Revan's. Startled, he noticed she seemed to be considering something. Her deep violet eyes, speckled with bits of red tint, seemed deep in thought.

Then, as though wishing to cover up what she had been thinking, she grinned maliciously and said, "That cantina you're thinking about isn't even open yet, so you're not going anywhere for a while."

Atton's eyes slanted in suspicion, yet found himself smiling under her powerful gaze. _It's those stupid Jedi mind tricks again._ Quickly, he thought about pazaak. _7+3-1+10…_ Oh wait, that wouldn't equal twenty. It was no use. Revan smiled in satisfaction and strode away toward the podium where she would have to make a speech. Atton felt like ripping off that smile, yet at the same time felt a maddening desire to see those sparkling eyes again.

Malak stood beside her as she held her right hand up for silence, though the room was already quiet as could be. She cleared her throat. "Different though we all are, we have come here for one common purpose. To protect those being attacked by the Mandalorians and put that thought into action. We might have come here to protect our families, to fight for a lost memory, or to prove ourselves." She paused and let the thought sink in. "However, if you are one of those that has forgotten our purpose, I suggest that the time is right for you to leave."

_Not smart_, thought Atton. _Dismissing the troops already, are we?_ But no soldier or Jedi even moved an inch. Revan smiled knowingly and said, "Very loyal, I see. At ease." The salutes lowered.

"Now," Revan continued. "Before we proceed to aid those in the Outer Rim that are being attacked by the Mandalorians, I want to make sure that we are all trained properly and extensively. The Mandalorian's armor defense can be easily brought down _if_ you know where to strike." She gestured to Malak who took her place at the podium.

He didn't speak as loudly as Revan, yet everyone listened attentively. "We have had the pleasure and honor of some Echani joining our ranks, and we strategized that learning and training from them, our regular training cast aside for the time being, would strengthen our chances." He bowed out of the way for the new figure walking up onto the stage.

The man was almost taller than Malak and he was dressed all in white. _Nice goatee…_ He was Yusanis, one of the most powerful Echani. "I am a man of few words," Yusanis admitted. "So let's get straight to the point. We'll start with the basics. A bit of sparring with melee weapons, some punching bags, and then…a battle similation that took the good part two days to set up. Luckily my daughters, and the Jedi here helped me out with that one." He gestured off stage and someone threw him a long Echani staff, which he caught fastly and firmly. "Let's begin."

The door to the hall slammed open and a line of teenager girls dressed all in white just like Yusanis appeared, with either a sword or staff in hand, which in turn they handed out to the soldiers.

At the very end of the line, a very young girl, who looked similar to her sisters but stood out a little, proudly held another staff to present to a soldier. But one of her sisters turned around in surprise—and then anger. The older one pushed her out even though the younger one gave a cry of protest.

Atton raised his eyebrow. What had that been about? He stared at Yusanis, who was watching this scene in disapproval—and with a little bit of sadness.

Then, something heavy plopped into his hands. It was one of those staffs, but definitely not one of the better made ones. It looked like it could get chopped in two after being hit by one of the swords.

"The person in the line opposite you is your opponent," Yusanis was saying. "Turn to face each other now."

The soldier opposite him, named Mars, snickered, and brandished a very sharp sword that glinted at the end. "You're going to get creamed, man."

After looking at his pathetic looking stick and his opponents very sharp looking sword, Atton thought of the only two words that could emphasize what he was feeling right now. _Oh frack…_

Revan took over the microphone. "No critical hits whatsoever. I don't want soldiers injured before they even get to see battle."

_Heh, like they're going to listen to that._

Yusanis continued, "The Mandalorian's head is not as well protected as the other areas. So let's try the 'yokomen' hit. Person on the right row—my right, mind you—aims for the head while the one in the _left_ row deflects. Begin!"

Atton checked to see what row he was in. He was in the left row. _Someone out there must really hate me,_ he thought, and braced himself for Mars to hit. He half-expected his staff to crack a bit…but to his amazement it didn't. Atton had underestimated his only defense. Echani weaponry was stronger than he had thought at first. His heart swelled in confidence. Atton was now in a stance with his staff under his opponent's sword.

"And pause," said Yusanis. "Very good. Let's do a bit of choreographed fighting. Now, the person in the left row will do a slight push to the weapon on top of his or hers, and as their opponent struggles for their balance, do the crossover 'do' attack, straight to the chest. Soldiers on right side, deflect. This is used when the opponent is relatively far away. Start."

The clanging of swords and staffs echoed in the hall. Atton did as Yusanis said, but as he started the 'do' attack, he thrusted slightly harder than he had meant to. With a loud _thwack!_, his opponent fell to floor. Mars recovered immediately, dusted himself off agitatedly, though he was bent around the middle, and glared at Atton. "No critical attacks, you schutta. Weren't you listening?"

"Yusanis said to deflect, weren't you listening?" Atton returned, with a mischievous smirk.

Mars scowled and got himself into another stance, and this time his eyes were blood-shot with thirst for revenge. _This is the difference between the Jedi and us,_ Atton thought. _Jedi control their emotions. We show exactly how we feel._ Trying not to shrink under Mars' penetrating gaze, Atton couldn't think of which one he preferred at the moment. But Atton impulsively got into a stance as well.

"Very nice," said Yusanis back up at the stage. "Now, the person in the right row is going to aim for the opponent's ankles. The people on the left side should obviously jump to avoid this attack, and both players should find themselves with their weapons crossed. On the count of three. One—"

On the second count, Mars swung out his sword and Atton had to jump as high as he could to avoid being hit. _Guess I should lay off the juma,_ he thought sourly as his stomach contracted painfully.

And then he found himself face to face with Mars, between their two crossed weapons. Atton, who had still been trying to figure out where to put his hands, found his right palm grazed slightly by the side of the sword. Atton winced and ignored the pain.

"Now," Yusanis continued. "The right-hand person will take out their weapon from the cross, and aim for the opponent's neck. However I caution you to know your boundaries."

_This is stupid!_ Atton thought. _You actually think I'm going to wait for Mars to strike across my neck with his sparkly sword?_ He couldn't wait until Yusanis broke the choreography to let them do some freestyle…and then Mars would get what he'd deserved.

His thoughts snapped back to the task at hand. Mars was appearing to retreat—and then just a split second later charged in. Atton didn't have time to blink. Instinct cut in and he parried the thrust. As Mars paused to try to come up with a second offense, Atton grabbed for Mars' open hand and yanked as hard as he could. His muscles burned. But then Mars was suddenly whirling in the air over Atton's shoulder…and Mars found himself crumpled in a heap to the floor.

"My arm socket is disconnected," Mars moaned, cradling his left arm, dropping his sword to the ground.

"Fool!" Malak boomed, pushing Atton away and rushing over to the scene. _Oh sure, blame the guy who didn't want to get killed by a foot and a half long sword,_ Atton thought smugly.

Revan walked serenely behind Malak. "Malak, the whole purpose of this is to produce better fighters. Obviously," Revan stated, "We've done an exceptional job." She was looking at Atton thoughtfully once again.

_Would she quit doing that? And stop invading my mind for Force's sake!_

"No, I won't," Revan replied quietly. "It is because I believe you will have your own purposes, in the near future. I will come back for you then."

"I'm not doing your dirty work for you," Atton said through clenched teeth, trying to block out her voice, Mars' painful groaning from the floor, and the other recruit's titters.

"Oh? Well I believe that when that day arrives, it will be you _willing_ to indulge my commands. But will _I_ still be willing? Or will you be all alone?" She left the sentence hanging, returning the glare evenly with her eyes, which seemed to have produced more red sparks since he had last seen them. Atton looked away.

"That was a quite appropriate method," Yusanis remarked to Atton, but Atton could tell Yusanis was growing impatient by the delays and mishaps. "But I think the time is also appropriate for the next session. The training continues in another room. Proceed to the room marked with blue."

"Keep with your lines as well," Malak added. "Will somebody _please_ escort Commander Mars to the Healing Room?"

…

Atton lagged behind as the rest of the soldiers headed down to the next room. He could hear Yusanis announcing the instructions and saw his daughters taking down some punching and kicking bags. Now that they had finished with melee, the acrobatics was going to start. _They should have just done the punching bags and left out the melee weapons._ Atton's hand was slightly calloused now from the previous fight.

He headed over to the sink by the refresher and let the cold water run over his bloody palm and knuckles and his worries. Behind him, he heard a little sniffle. He turned and saw the little girl in white sitting on the floor, head in her arms. She looked to be about nine years old.

Atton saw—or rather—felt a sudden flashback. It was of his younger sister, named Gabrielle, nicknamed Elle. Elle had been in the same position shaped like an N, knees bent, head in arms. Elle had been crying about some bullies down the street. Gabrielle had obviously suffered some blows. After comforting his sister, Atton had gone and hunted down those bullies. Who did they think they were anyway?

But Atton never forgot Elle's grateful little smile under her misty gray eyes. Elle was gone now. But she was his motivation to keep going. To prevent those Mandalorians out there from doing the same thing to other people—but on a way larger scale.

Now, looking at the figure in white, Atton couldn't help but notice the resemblance. But if this girl was crying about her elder sisters treating her like trash, Atton couldn't really picture himself taking on all ten or more of her sisters all at once. Sure, they were just girls, but Atton had learned his lesson about underestimating people. Especially when some of those girls were taller than Atton himself, as well as daughters probably trained by the strong Echani, Yusanis. He personally wouldn't have minded all those women clambering on him, if only they looked different from each other!

Atton tried to recall what she had said to comfort Elle. It had been something about looking at the situation backwards, as Elle often liked to do, and imagining the bullies in her place. Would Elle have bullied them too? Probably not. Everyone was different and had different ambitions for different things. Everyone had to learn to accept that. It was a strange galaxy out there, but learning to stick up for yourself in it, that was important too.

But that person from long ago wasn't in Atton at the moment. Or maybe it was, slightly, but he couldn't quite picture himself saying all that out loud. Time to change tactics.

"Hey," he said softly, kneeling down so he was in eye range with the girl. He wasn't sure whether to pat the girl on the back or not. "Are you doing okay?"

The girl looked up, her eyes stained with tears. _Dumb question, Rand._ This girl was obviously not okay. "Who are you?" she asked, still sniffling. Her voice was surprisingly crystal clear.

"I'm…" 'Atton' was a name specifically given by Elle. It wouldn't belong to anyone else. "I'm…Jaq. Jaq Notta Rand. I was in the training room."

There was silence and then she said, "I know. I'm called the Handmaiden. I'm not allowed to share my real name with strangers."

Atton wasn't really comfortable with the way this conversation was going, so he stood up awkwardly. "Well, if you're really okay, I'll just go."

The Handmaiden just nodded and put her head back in her arms. As Atton headed back to the second room, he looked back, a little disappointed and bewildered. Maybe he should have said something more. But Atton shook his head to clear it and stepped into the loud room.

When Atton and this handmaiden would meet again, they would not recognize each other, their differences would number higher, and Atton's small kindness would be forgotten.

…

"You're late, Rand," said Dane Ulgo, one of Atton's older squad members during the regular practices.

"I was trying to avoid this session," Atton admitted scornfully.

"You're like my brother," Dane Ulgo chuckled. But then, at mentioning her brother, her lips quivered just a bit. "But you have your differences. For one, he believes in a different cause. He didn't want to join up."

"Everyone's different and has different ambitions for different things," Atton replied, echoing his earlier statements. "Everyone has to learn to accept that."

Dane looked at him quizzically. "Did that Mars guy hit you too hard on the head or something? I have never heard you say anything like that before, and you're not even being sarcastic."

Atton smiled grimly. "But you can never tell, can you?"

Frowning slightly, Dane walked off to the rest of the group feeling just as confused as Atton felt.

…

Atton tried to wedge in behind the crowd, hoping Revan's gaze wouldn't find him late. But she had probably noticed he was missing quite a long time ago. He didn't know that Revan's eyesight had been damaged during a recent espionage. But no one except Malak knew about that journey.

"The third part of this lesson is about to take place," Revan was saying. "This is the one many of you have been anticipating for a long time, and Malak and I can't wait to see your potential within it."

Yusanis took over. "We used a bit of Force Powers from Revan and Malak, with their consent of course, to make the simulation seem more _real_. Also, the beginning of the simulation might seem kind of confusing…you're just being transported to another room where the actual simulation is taking place. Other than that, you'll all proceed inside in groups of threes."

Malak chuckled softly. "Believe me, you won't need instructions to figure out the objective of this task. The only thing you need to worry about is completing it."

Yusanis swept an unwieldy gaze over the crowd of assembled troupes. "Virginia Hammel, Yaurel Kash, and Rovert Lao, I believe? You three will be in the same group. If you'll be kind enough to assemble yourself to the side…"

Malak and Revan also took turns in choosing groups and Atton then heard his name being called. "Jaq Rand, Dane Ulgo, and Mars Wood, in another group." It was Revan's voice announcing this party this time. Atton sighed resignedly.

"Your arm doing okay, Mars?" Dane said, starting up the conversation as they waited for the rest of the groups to be hand-picked. "You sure you're ready to come back so soon?"

"Well," Mars drawled, pointing at his right arm patched up in a light bandage. "It's a good thing I've had practice fighting left-handed or else we'll all be goners once we step inside that simulation."

"What d'you think the simulation actually is?" Dane whispered.

"The right question is: Do we really want to know?" Atton said, barely looking up.

"Rand, Ulgo, Wood," Malak barked. "You're in."

…

The world went completely dark. Then around him swirled colorful mists. His body felt numb.

"Hello?" Atton said hesitantly out loud.

"Rand?" Atton heard Dane's voice yell out loud. "Mars? Where are you guys?"

"I don't know…" Atton said this softly, and tried to see something other than darkness. What the hell was going on? Was this what Yusanis had described, the part where they were presumably being transferred to the real simulation room?

And then! Atton thought he saw something flit in through the darkness, thought he saw some little light feet tread along a path. He saw the girl turn around and stare at him with her unusually large gray eyes. It was over in just a few seconds. "Elle!" Atton cried, lunging forward. But something else appeared in her place.

It was a tiny dot. Atton squinted to try to make the shape out. It came closer, and Atton saw it was some type of punching bag, levitating in mid-air. Instinctively, he lunged out to hit it. The bag dodged his hit and Atton found himself back on the floor. Now he was angry. He started hitting everything, whatever he could find, wherever the punching bag was. Blood boiled inside of him. He missed once again, and found the floor whirling out towards him as he lunged again.

As he did so, his face hit something hard. Atton groaned and lifted himself up, ignoring his now bloody nose. Around him, he heard Dane and Mars struggle to get up.

"Well, I never," Mars was saying.

Instantly, before all of their eyes, the room transformed into…a jungle. Atton couldn't see the corners of it.

"Well, I never," Mars said again. _Would you shut up?_ Atton heard himself thinking. _We heard you say it the first time._

The jungle was thick and dense, will tall trees with vines that snaked their way around the trunks. There was dew on the light grass beneath them, and the sun shined down on them. There didn't seem to be anyone else here.

"Anybody else feeling that we are definitely not in the safest place?" Dane asked.

Atton reached for his blaster, only to realize it was not in his usual place on his belt. He fumbled inside his vest's pockets, but nothing came out except for a list of people he owed credits to. (That list was quite long, actually.)

And then they all started to hear it: Thunderous footsteps that made the ground vibrate. Was that a war chant? He immediately got into a fighting stance, immediately wishing he had stayed for that martial arts session.

And then, all too soon, they saw them. At least 6 feet tall, under their full colorful armor in bright arrays of red…the color of blood. They all had a blaster or sword in their hand, and Atton felt this wasn't going to be pretty. Could people _die_ in a simulation?

"I don't have a weapon!" he hissed to nobody in particular, and then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw one of the girls dressed in white step in the very realistic simulation, drop three staffs on the ground. Atton couldn't tell if it was the Handmaiden or not. She then backed away, out of reach, and out of sight.

"Yes!" Dane yelled in triumph as she grabbed her staff. Atton and Mars followed suit.

Atton felt behind his pockets for a smoke grenade, and as the Mandalorians caved in, he threw it high, high into the air. The grenade cast into effect immediately. The air blocked out the sunlight and knocked out the breath of the Mandalorians, but it didn't hold them back for long.

After sharing one look with each other, differences cast aside, the three of them charged and put their training to use. Whether that _use_ was worth it, Atton didn't know, but mentally told the simulation Mandalorians to not take it personally.

This was like the real thing…just on a much smaller scale, Atton thought. Fighting for what we believe in. _War does not determine who is right—only who is left._ Heh—But it does help to stay alive. Most of the time. What comes after war should be taken wary of too. Because whoever held the upper hand had the chance to make their actions echo through eternity. But would they be the right actions? What was _right_ anyway? What was all this for?

Confused by these thoughts, Atton decided to do first things first and then get the hell out of here. But he was torn between now, and just a slight change would tip the scale. One person could come and cause that scale to get out of balance, changing all of his ideas and inspirations to something else, for better or for worse. Turns out, this ended up happening _two_ times. But without mysteries, life would be very dull indeed.

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End file.
